Angels of Mercy
by DebC75
Summary: The homeless are receiving helpful gifts from unseen benefactors. When the media deem them "the Angels of Wash Out Lane," Declan investigates.
1. Angels of Mercy: Prologue

"Angels of Mercy"

Prologue

Nights get cold one the streets, as Marcus Sheppard-known to the streets only as "Shep"-had learned in his ten years living there. Especially in Romanstown. The town itself was a wonder, full of beautiful homes and bustling economy. It was a community on the rise. The homeless population had also risen, seemingly in direct proportion to the rise of the economy. However, while Romanstown took great care of its regular citizens, pristine homes and budding businesses, it had regulated its homeless to one back alley on the far end of town. 

The alley was known by all as "Wash-out Lane," and it was there that Shep now sat with his back against the wall, shivering. Although it was late summer, Shep was cold, the night air nipping at his skin and chilling it past the point of freezing. With no blankets and only a threadbare flannel shirt for warmth, Shep wondered if this might be his last night on earth. 

Nearby, a young mother hugged her small daughter to her chest. The woman had lost her home when the factory she worked for had closed its doors a year earlier. The new economy in Romanstown had swallowed the factory up, making its services obsolete. Her daughter clung to her, teeth chattering in the cold. "Mama, I'm hungry," the girl whined. Her mother shooshed her, but knew there was no way she could feed her. 

A few feet away, two drunks were passed out, having drunk themselves into a stupor. At least the alcohol dulled the pain and chased away the night's chill if only temporarily. 

Sleep was just beginning to blur Shep's vision when he first noticed the image of white hovering on the edge of the huddled population of Wash-out Lane. He wasn't sure, but he could swear the image was dressed in a white gown. As Shep's eyelids drooped, shutting the night from his eyes, the image in white stole into the midst of the poor and needy. It stopped in front of the young mother who had fallen asleep cuddling her daughter to her bosom. Leaning over, it covered both mother and child in thick, warm blanket and turned away. 

The next morning, when the sun woke the homeless of Wash-out Lane, each of them was covered in a warm, new blanket, and each had a thermos of hot soup at their side. 

~*~*~*~

Part 1

Declan Dunn paused in mid-sentence when he saw the familiar form of the hospital psychiatrist appear in the doorway of his classroom. She had arrived earlier than he'd expected, and the anthropologist knew that his friend didn't exactly give much credit to the topic of today's lecture.

"Angels," he repeated, covering his tracks. "Heavenly beings from another plane of existence. For thousands of years, man has spoken of them, looked for them, and some say," he glanced over at Peggy. "Made them up." 

A young woman in one of the middle rows raised her hand tentatively. Declan nodded to her, acknowledging her desire to speak.

"The Bible is very clear on the existence of angels," she stated. 

"What if you don't believe in the Bible?" someone else countered. "Or God?"

"What indeed?" Declan jumped back into the conversation, picking up where the skeptical young man had left off. "Some social scientist and anthropologists believe that angels were just a way for our God-fearing ancestors to explain the lights in the sky which we know associate as being UFO's. Which leads us to our topic for today"

~*~*~*~

"Angels, huh?" Peggy asked once the class was over. Dec shrugged. 

"That's what the media are calling it." He grabbed his briefcase off the desk and headed for his office, Peggy at his side. Once there he snatched up the morning newspaper before it could disappear into the general clutter that was his office. "The Angels of Wash-out Lane."

"Declan" Peggy began to admonish him.

"I know, I know. 'There is no afterlife, no higher spiritual realm.' Blah, blah, blah. Just read the article, okay?" 

"Sources reveal that one of the indigents, a man known only as Shep, claims to have seen a 'glistening white shape' hovering over him as he fell asleep," she read. "Declan, you do realize that this man's account can't really be trusted. He's a homeless old man! He was probably drunk or is just making it up."

"I didn't say you had to believe it, Peggy. Heck!" he grinned at her suddenly "I didn't even say I believed it. I just want to check it out, is all."

"That's all?" Peggy asked, a smile forming on her face as a direct result of his infectious grin. 

"Sure. You're coming, right?"

"Declan, I" he was giving her that look again-half-pleading, all hopeful, and very adorable. "Oh, alright."

~*~*~*~


	2. Angels of Mercy: Part 1

Part 1

Declan Dunn paused in mid-sentence when he saw the familiar form of the hospital psychiatrist appear in the doorway of his classroom. She had arrived earlier than he'd expected, and the anthropologist knew that his friend didn't exactly give much credit to the topic of today's lecture.

"Angels," he repeated, covering his tracks. "Heavenly beings from another plane of existence. For thousands of years, man has spoken of them, looked for them, and some say," he glanced over at Peggy. "Made them up." 

A young woman in one of the middle rows raised her hand tentatively. Declan nodded to her, acknowledging her desire to speak.

"The Bible is very clear on the existence of angels," she stated. 

"What if you don't believe in the Bible?" someone else countered. "Or God?"

"What indeed?" Declan jumped back into the conversation, picking up where the skeptical young man had left off. "Some social scientist and anthropologists believe that angels were just a way for our God-fearing ancestors to explain the lights in the sky which we know associate as being UFO's. Which leads us to our topic for today"

~*~*~*~

"Angels, huh?" Peggy asked once the class was over. Dec shrugged. 

"That's what the media are calling it." He grabbed his briefcase off the desk and headed for his office, Peggy at his side. Once there he snatched up the morning newspaper before it could disappear into the general clutter that was his office. "The Angels of Wash-out Lane."

"Declan" Peggy began to admonish him.

"I know, I know. 'There is no afterlife, no higher spiritual realm.' Blah, blah, blah. Just read the article, okay?" 

"Sources reveal that one of the indigents, a man known only as Shep, claims to have seen a 'glistening white shape' hovering over him as he fell asleep," she read. "Declan, you do realize that this man's account can't really be trusted. He's a homeless old man! He was probably drunk or is just making it up."

"I didn't say you had to believe it, Peggy. Heck!" he grinned at her suddenly "I didn't even say I believed it. I just want to check it out, is all."

"That's all?" Peggy asked, a smile forming on her face as a direct result of his infectious grin. 

"Sure. You're coming, right?"

"Declan, I" he was giving her that look again-half-pleading, all hopeful, and very adorable. "Oh, alright."

~*~*~*~


	3. Angels of Mercy: Part 2

Part 2

Declan pulled his truck into the parking lot of a diner where the sign out front boldly proclaimed it to serve the "best meal in Romanstown." 

"Wanna get lunch first?" Declan asked Peggy as they climbed down from the truck. 

Peggy looked at him, hesitating. "I don't know, Declan, I"

"Come on!" he said, flashing her an impish grin. "I'm buying."

The psychiatrist sighed as she followed her improbably friend into the diner. 

They chose a corner table, and as they sat down, a waitress hustled passed them carrying a tray of dirty dishes. 

"Be right with you folks," she said hurriedly. "Menus are on the table. Specials are on the board." She pointed to a black Dry-Erase board on the wall to their left and hurried off. 

The specials were written in fluorescent pink marker. Mom's meatloaf with mashed potatoes and home-made beef gravy, chili, and

"What in the world is Poor Man's Stew?" Declan inquired when the waitress returned. 

"It's a soup made with potatoes, carrots, ham, butter and milk," the girl replied.

"Is it any good?"  
"Dave-he's our cook, by the way-makes the best Poor Man's Stew I've ever tasted."

"Actually, that sounds pretty good," Peggy interrupted. "I think I'll try it."

"Me, too," Declan echoed. 

~*~*~*~

"Did you enjoy your soup?" the waitress asked as Declan approached the counter to pay. 

"Yeah, I did," he replied.

"It was very good," Peggy added with a smile. 

The girl smiled back, taking their bill and ringing it up on the cash register. "That comes to six dollars and forty-eight cents, sir." 

Declan pulled a handful of bills from the pocket of his blue jeans and began straightening them as he handed the to the waitress. "One two three four five " he stopped counting abruptly, looking guiltily over at Peggy. 

"It's okay, Declan," Peggy sighed. "I'll cover the rest." 

As Peggy handed the waitress two dollars, Declan pretended to study a copy of the local newspaper. 

"So this is Romanstown?" he asked in an attempt at conversation. 

"Yep," the girl replied. 

"Wasn't there something I read about this town in the newspaper? Something about homeless people in a flood or something?" He was fishing trying not to come to the point or even make it seem like he knew what he was talking about. 

"Flood?" The girl seemed puzzled.

"I read something about a wash-out or-" 

"Oh! You mean the homeless people out on Wash-out Lane! Yeah, it was in the news again a couple days ago. Strange things happening out there," the young woman told them. 

"Like what exactly?" 

"I don't really know, but that bum the TV people interviewed said he saw an angel." The girl shrugged.   
"An Angel? Really?" Declan asked, trying to sound surprised. He only managed in eliciting an amused grin from Peggy. "Now that'd be something to see. Is it far from here? Wash-out Lane, I mean?"

The waitress gave him directions, but as Declan thanked her and turned to leave, she added "But you won't find anything, sir. That old bum is probably just making it up to get some attention. Or else he was drunk."

Once they were outside, Peggy gave him an I-told-you-so look. "See?" 

"See what? That the world is filled with skeptics like you? Come on, Peggy! Just because the guy is homeless, that doesn't give people the right to stereotype him as a drunk."

"Then how else would you explain the 'angels' he claims to have seen?" Peggy asked him as she climbed back into the truck.

"I don't know yet."

~*~*~*~


	4. Angels of Mercy: Part 3

Part 3

The young man eyed Declan warily, and then began to turn away. 

"Wait a minute!" Declan exclaimed, causing the man to stop. "I just want to talk to Shep, that's all. Can you at least point him out to me."

"What if he don't want to talk?" the man asked. "Or what if you don't?" The last was said with an air of suspicion and a narrowing of eyes.

"Hey! I'm not here to cause trouble, mister. I just want to talk to the guy who saw the angel," Declan protested. 

The young man shrugged. "It's no skin off my nose what you're about man," he said, pointing to a mass of blankets hiding between two garbage cans. 

Declan approached hesitantly. "Shep?" he said, kneeling beside the blankets. "Are you Shep?" he asked.

A face appeared beyond the blankets. It was bruised and swollen, and there was blood drying on a recent wound. 

"Who wants to know?" a scratchy voice asked. 

~*~*~*~

"You should have seen him, Peg," Declan said when he met up with Peggy at the Romanstown library. They were now flipping through the newspaper archives in search of any references to the homeless on Wash-out Lane. "He was beaten up pretty bad."

"Did he say how it happened?" Peggy asked, as she flipped through a three-year old microfiche reel. 

"No, he wouldn't tell me anything about it." Declan leaned over Peggy's shoulder to get a better view of the screen in front of her. "What's this?" he said, pointing.

Peggy read: Mayor Pulls Plug on Shelter, Disappoints Wife

"'In a bold move, Mayor Whitfield decided to pull funding from the proposed homeless shelter on Maple Avenue.'" Declan read over her shoulder. He read further into the article. "It says here that the mayor's own wife was supposed to head up the shelter. Maybe we should be talking to her."

They found a few more articles in their search-one was an editorial calling for the forced removal of the homeless in Wash-out Lane, and the other-from a recent edition-described the brutal beating of one of the homeless men following the angel sighting. 

"So that's what happened to him" Peggy murmured as she read the account of the attack. 

"But why?" Declan asked. 

Peggy shook her head in an I-don't-know fashion. "It says here that the motive for the attack was unclear. It could have been a coincidence."

~*~*~*~

"It wasn't a coincidence," Marcus Sheppard said matter-of-factly. "They knew what they were doing when they jumped me." 

Declan threw Peggy a see-what-did-I-tell-you glance. "They? More than one person attacked you?" 

'The article said it was most likely a mugging gone bad," Peggy added. 

"Ha! They believe the newspapers?" a drunk from the corner interrupted. 

"Don't believe everything you read, missy," his drinking buddy supplied. "Tell 'em, Shep."

"Tell us what, exactly," asked Declan. 

"You might say that article you read was about half right," Shep told them. "And also about half fairy tales." He sat up a little straighter and waved his hand around him at the people congregated in the alley. "They didn't even send in a reporter to cover the angels like all the national television and newspaper people did. Don't really care about what happens out here, so long as we're quiet."

"What do you mean?" asked Declan, although he was beginning to understand the homeless man. 

"Romanstown is a beautiful place, isn't it missy?" Shep asked Peggy, seeming at first to ignore Declan's question. When Peggy nodded, he said, "It always was, too. Nice place to raise a family. Fact is, I suspect there are some folks who don't want us here, cuz we spoil all that beauty, if you take my meaning. That young Mrs. Whitfield is just about the only one who ever really showed any interest in what happened to us."

~*~*~*~


	5. Angels of Mercy: Part 4

"Angels of Mercy"  
Part 4  
  
  
"Then you'll come?" Declan asked in to the phone as he watched Peggy through the phone booth glass.  
  
"Sure," came the monosyllabic reply.   
  
"Thanks, Miranda," Declan beamed. "I knew I could count on you." He hung up the phone and stepped out of the cramped phone booth. "Miranda's on her way," Declan told Peggy as he hopped into his truck.   
  
"She's going to bring all that ghost catching stuff, right?" Peggy asked in a half-patronizing, half-joking tone of voice.   
  
Which, of course, Declan was oblivious to. "Yeah. We're going to set up the equipment and see if we can't catch the angels in action."   
  
"Declan…" Peggy began.  
  
"Come on, Peg! Don't you want to know what's going on in that alley?"   
  
Peggy sighed. "Okay, I'll admit that it is intriguing, but I just don't think it's really angels."   
  
I guess we'll find out tonight, then," Declan replied.   
  
~*~*~*~   
  
Miranda arrived later than evening with the EMF meter and the other "ghost catching equipment." It didn't take them long to set up, despite protests from the inhabitants of Wash-out Lane.   
  
Then the waiting began.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"Nothing," Declan said for the second time. The trio had rented a double-room suite from the local motel so they could examine the tapes in private. "I can't believe there's nothing here."  
  
"Maybe the angels went away." Miranda suggested, staring at the read-out from the EMF meter. "Nothing out of the ordinary here."  
  
"So now what?" Peggy asked. "Do we just go home?"  
  
"And give up?" Declan asked. "Come on, Peg! Don't you want to know what happened out there?"  
  
"Actually, Declan," Peggy said, "I'm more interested in why no one cares what becomes of these poor people."   
  
"Didn't you the mayor's wife started a soup kitchen or something?" Miranda asked.  
  
"It was a homeless shelter," replied Declan, rewinding the tape they'd used from the night before. "And she didn't get to build it."  
  
"Her *husband* shot down the idea before it could be implemented," Peggy added.  
  
"Nice man," quipped Miranda.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
"Tell me again why we're doing this?" Peggy asked as she and Declan stood on the sidewalk in front of the Lawrence Roman Memorial Hospital.   
  
"You're the one who said there has to be a logical explanation for it," Declan countered. "So I just figured we could do some more digging before nightfall. You know, see what we could find out about our homeless friends."  
  
"I did, but--"  
  
"And..." Declan plunged on, ignoring the flustered look on her face. "you also said that it's likely some of those people in that alley are a little--" He raised his hand, twirling a finger in a circular motion around the vicinity of his ear.   
  
"What's that?" Peggy asked.  
  
"Crazy. Loco. You know," he said, repeating the motion. "Screwy."   
  
"Declan, that's not very nice."  
  
"But you said it yourself, Peg. What are the chances of any of those people being mentally ill?"   
  
Peggy sighed. "So you want me to do what? I don't know anyone in this hospital and I don't work here. What can I do?"   
  
"I dunno, Peg, but I know you can do it." He flashed her a hopeful smile and she caved in, following him into the hospital. She briefly wondered why she couldn't have gotten the easy job like Miranda--checking the town hall for any records pertaining to the homeless in the alley and the ill-received shelter.  
  
~*~*~*~  
  
Continued in Part 5... 


	6. Angels of Mercy: Part 5

Angels of Mercy Part 5

"Angels of Mercy"  
Part 5

"Jessica Whitfield made the homeless here in Romanstown a part of her crusade to save the world," Miranda said as she reached for a French fry. 

When Declan and Peggy returned from the hospital, they hadn't come empty-handed. Although, it was lunch they brought back with them and not any valuable information. Miranda, on the other had, had been slightly more successful. 

"She's been campaigning for a shelter and soup kitchen since before her husband was even elected mayor." Miranda told them about the numerous petitions the young mayor's wife had started to alleviate the burden on the homeless--and how each petition had been shot down by local politicos who felt it wasn't in the town's best interests to acknowledge their homeless problem. 

"You mean they'd rather sweep it under the rug and forget about those poor people?" Declan asked. 

"Yeah," Miranda said, nodding thoughtfully. "I think we should talk to her." 

"The mayor's wife?" Pegged inquired, taking a sip of her diet soda. 

"Yeah," Miranda said again. "Couldn't hurt."

"True," Declan replied. "But how do you go about getting an audience with the mayor's wife?"

~*~*~*~

Later on, as the trio approached the Whitfield residence, Declan turned to Miranda and said, "how did you possibly manage to get us in there?" He hadn't thought that the mayor's wife would see them on such short notice, especially regarding the angels. 

Miranda shrugged, giving him an enigmatic smile.

Glancing at Peggy and flashing her a slightly uneasy smile, Declan rang the doorbell. A woman answered the door a few seconds later. She was tall and slender, with long blond hair and a warm smile that widened into a grin when she saw them.

"Miranda!" she exclaimed, instantly stepping forward to give the usually reserved grad student a hug. 

Declan and Peggy exchanged glances--Peggy's asking Declan if he knew anything about this and Declan's clearly saying he didn't have a clue. 

~*~*~*~

"How come you never told me you knew Mrs. Whitfield?" Declan scolded Miranda as they set up their surveillance equipment for the second night in a row. 

"You never asked," came the reply. 

"How was I supposed to *know* to ask?" Declan countered. Sometimes it really bugged him that the greatest mystery in his life was his own assistant. 

Miranda shrugged as she set up the last video camera, pointing it towards the end of the alley opening out into the street. She picked up her knapsack and pulled out a box of Mrs. Fields cookies. "Want one?" she asked, holding the box out to Declan. 

They drew straws to see who got the first watch--Declan picking the short straw and earning the number one spot--and the trio settled in for the night.

A half hour later, the two women were asleep and Declan sat huddled in a corner, shivering from the night's chill. 

"It sure does get cold out here," he whispered to no one in particular. 

"Tell me about it," replied one of the drunks in the corner. His voice was slurred from booze and sleep. 

"You really think you're going to catch our angel with those machines?" the other one asked. 

"I might..." Declan told them in a whisper. "You never know in this line of work."   
  
(continued in Part 6)


	7. Angels of Mercy: Part 6 (Finale)

*** Your Title Here ***

Part 6

The night wore on, growing colder. At a little past Midnight, the wind picked up and Peggy huddled deeper into her blanket as she stared out into the gloom. Surrounding her in the dark of the alley were the snores and wheezes of the homeless as they slept. Some of them huddled together for warmth--like the little girl, Clara, and her mother who had once worked in a factory before it closed down, leaving them penniless. Peggy had spoken to Clara and her mother earlier that day. The little girl told her that she wished the angels would bring them a new home and money so she could go to school like the other kids. She just wanted to be normal. 

Peggy shivered again, and pulled her blanket tighter around her. It was warm and inviting, and the warmth seemed to lull her, causing her eyelids to droop when she didn't want them to. 

As her eyes slowly closed, a blur of white flew past her. Peggy jumped, startled into sudden wakefulness. Her eyes were now wide open, but she no longer saw anything. Then she heard a distinctive sound from the opposite end of the alley--the soft ::thunk:: of a car door closing. She jumped up and raced to the opening of the blind alley, but all she saw when she got to the street were the taillights of a white car as they blended in with the flow of late-night traffic. She couldn't even be certain if the car saw had even been the one that she'd heard. 

Dejected, Peggy turned around. She was wondering what the use of this stake out was when something caught her attention. Clara and her mother were wrapped in not one--but two heavy blankets, and beside them sat a shiny metallic thermos. Those hadn't been there before. 

The drunks across the way had new blankets and thermoses, too. So did Shep, the man whose testimony to the newspapers had brought Declan to this town in the first place. 

"Declan! Declan!" Peggy said excitedly as she rushed to her friend and began to shake him, rousing him from sleep. 

"What! Peg!?" asked a sleepy Declan Dunn. 

"Something happened here," she told him. "Someone was here." 

~*~*~*~

"There, you see it?" Peggy said as a flash of white raced across the monitor in front of them. The trio had packed up their equipment at dawn, after a sleepless vigil to see if whomever had left the second set of blankets and food would return. No one did. 

"It's too blurry to tell what it is, though," Declan said.

"Could be a feather," suggested Miranda.

"A feather?" echoed Declan. 

"Yeah. Pigeons on the roof," Miranda took a sip of her mocha. "One could have lost a feather and it floated down..."

"And in the way of the lens..." Declan finished for her. "if it was close enough, it would look bigger than it really was."

"Umm, guys, feathers don't drive cars." Miranda looked at Peggy, giving her a look that silently questioned what she was saying. "I *heard* a car door slam. That has to mean something."

"But you said you could tell if any of those cars had been near the alley," Declan pointed out. Miranda silently went over to one of the other cameras, and hooked it up to the monitor. It had been the one trained on the street. 

"Yeah, I know, Declan, but--" 

"I've got something." Miranda pointed to the screen. The monitor showed a white car parked on the edge of the street, just near the alley. A hooded figure wearing a dark gray jogging suit exited the car and walked towards the alley. A few minutes later, it returned and drove away. "Times coincide with Peggy's white blur," Miranda commented.

"But whoever this guy was, he was wearing dark clothes. Not white." Declan pointed out.

"She." As Miranda spoke, her eyes were trained on the departing car.

"What do you mean--she?"

"It's not a he, it's a she. I know this car," said Miranda. She turned away from the monitor. She'd paused it so that the license plate was clearly visible. 

"WITFLD 1" Declan read. "Whitfield? As in Jessica Whitfield?" 

Miranda nodded. 

~*~*~*~

Later that day, the trio sat once again in the Whitfield living room. 

After some discussion, they convinced the mayor's wife to come forward as the person who had been aiding the homeless of Wash-out Lane. She'd been hesitant before, because she had been afraid to go against her husband so openly. 

"There's one thing I don't understand, though," said Declan through a mouthful of chocolate chip cookies. "How'd you get the blankets and thermoses down without our cameras detecting you?"

Mrs. Whitfield turned to him, a curious expression on her face. "What thermoses?" 

"The metal thermoses. The ones with the soup in them," was Declan's reply.  
  
Jessica Whitfield shook her head in confusion. "I didn't leave thermoses. Only blankets."

"You didn't?" Miranda asked.

Again, the mayor's wife shook her head. "I felt so sorry for them when the proposal for the shelter fell through. So I ordered a shipment of blankets from this company I know of that deals in bulk items. On the really cold nights, I slip out and leave the blankets with those poor people." Her voice was full of sorrow and sincerity. 

"But not the soup?" Peggy asked. 

"I didn't know anything about the soup until the newspapers printed their story," came the reply.

"And you didn't leave soup for them last night?" Declan asked.

"No. No, I didn't." 

The four of them looked at each other. "Then who did?" 

"Whoever it was," Mrs. Whitfield said, "they're the real angels of mercy."

(fin)


End file.
